


“Tomorrow we can pretend it never happened.”

by LulaIsAKitten



Series: First Kisses [14]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 07:52:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14930204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LulaIsAKitten/pseuds/LulaIsAKitten
Summary: Continuing the series of shorts of possible first kisses between these two. Got a few ideas. Feel free to submit prompts for anything you’d like to see in the comments below or over on Tumblr at lulacat3.





	“Tomorrow we can pretend it never happened.”

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Friday_25](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Friday_25/gifts).



> A gift for Friday_25. Thank you for the prompt!
> 
> “‘Oh no there's only one bed, I guess we'll have to share!’ Can that be your next one? X”
> 
> Let me know what you think. Have sat on this for a bit because I wasn’t sure about it, but I do try to make them not too samey.

 

Strike and Robin stood and looked at the king size bed. Despite being six foot square, it looked tiny. Robin swallowed hard at the thought of having to share.

Strike was equally dubious. “I can sleep in the Land Rover,” he offered, but he knew she’d refuse.

“Don’t be silly,” Robin said at once. “You’ll freeze. The bad weather is the reason all the hotels are full, no one wants to drive home tonight.”

They were too far from London to attempt the drive back. They’d headed up north to tail a suspect who had told his wife he was on a business conference but was likely meeting his lover. He had indeed attended the conference but met the lover afterwards. Strike and Robin had blended into the conference well and got the evidence that they needed later, but they had stayed longer than they intended to get the job done, and Robin was tired and the roads were icy. Strike had taken the decision that they needed to stay the night rather than driving back, but the combination of a conference in town and the poor weather meant the hotels were all full. They had had to take this one room they had found, a nice but small double at an exorbitant rate in a high-end hotel.

Not for the first time, Strike inwardly cursed the leg that stopped him from driving. The Land Rover was too heavy and unwieldy for him to be able to manage with the prosthesis, or he could have taken his turn with the driving and they could have cautiously headed home. But Robin looked strained and tired - the drive up had been difficult and the conference long - and he wasn’t going to ask her to drive all the way back to save an embarrassing evening. Just be professional, he told himself.

“Let’s pop back to that Sainsbury’s we passed,” he said. “Grab some toiletries and sandwiches. There must be some kind of film on, we can picnic and make an evening of it.” He smiled cheerfully at her, refusing to think about what would happen afterwards, when they had to share the bed.

Robin nodded and they headed out. Their normal companionable quiet was rather strained now, both preoccupied with the night that lay ahead.

They wandered around the supermarket together. Somehow doing something so couple-y made Robin feel more awkward. They chose sandwiches and snacks, bottles of water, toothbrushes and toiletries.

“Um... I’m just going to look at the clothes section,” Robin said, flushing a little. “I’ll need something to sleep in, I can’t sleep in my skirt.”

“I’m going to grab some beers,” Strike said. “Want anything?”

“Oh, yes, sling me a bottle of wine in,” Robin said. Anything to take the edge off the awkwardness, she thought. Strike headed off and she went to look at nightdresses. She managed to find a T-shirt style one that looked long enough to cover her modesty well enough, but it was pink and had a picture of kittens on it. She sighed. Decent coverage is more important, she thought, and at least cutesy kittens won’t look in the least seductive. On impulse she threw in a pair of leggings, too. She hesitated at the underwear section and chose a pair of knickers, deciding she’d rather have a fresh pair to wear even if it did mean Strike would have seen them.

They paid and headed back to the hotel. The room seemed smaller if anything. Strike dumped the bag of food and alcohol on the desk. He’d bought a T-shirt to change into. They looked at one another, awkward.

“Well,” Robin said briskly. “I’m going to get changed, not staying in my uncomfortable work clothes all evening. Mind if I use the bathroom first? I suggest you open the alcohol, see if we can make this any less awkward.” She grinned at him, and he laughed.

With the ice broken, they did actually manage to make a pleasant evening of it. Robin changed into her long nightie and leggings, tying her hair back and scrubbing off her make-up, quite sure that this would render her unsexy. We’re just mates who have to share a room, she thought. I’ve done it with girlfriends loads of times.

Strike had swiftly changed into his T-shirt and opened the beer and wine. They had to drink out of water glasses, but that added to the picnic vibe. They spread the food out on the bed and Strike went through the film options. There weren’t many, but they settled in the end on a comedy.

Robin found herself enjoying the evening. They sat side by side on the bed, on top of the covers, eating and chatting and half watching the film. It felt companionable but not too intimate. She was more tired than she had been prepared to admit, and the wine went to her head a little, possibly also because she drank a little too fast out of nerves.

Strike was also enjoying himself. Sitting side by side watching the film meant that he didn’t have to look at her too much, which was safe. He had to assume that she’d chosen the nightdress and removed her makeup to look neutral, but he’d never found her sexier. He felt as though he were being allowed to see the real Robin beneath her work veneer, a softer Robin of kittens and soft cotton clinging to curves, of clear skin and ponytail. When she giggled at the film, it was all he could do not to wrap his arms around her. He did his best to concentrate on the film, but the beer was eroding his resolve. He found himself longing to kiss her more than ever. He was also trying very hard not to wonder if she was wearing the knickers he’d seen on the supermarket checkout.

Eventually the film finished, and it was late. The moment had arrived. Robin, slightly alarmed that over half the bottle of wine seemed to have disappeared, excused herself to brush her teeth. She couldn’t look herself in the eye in the bathroom mirror. She scurried back to bed, and as Strike made his way to the bathroom, she slid under the covers and scooted right over to the very edge of the bed on her side.

Her side? She realised she had just picked a side. And it wasn’t the side she’d slept on with Matthew. You’re reading too much into this, she told herself.

Strike emerged from the bathroom and she held very still, her eyes squeezed closed.

She heard him moving about, felt the bed dip as he sat. She was aware of the sound of him removing his trousers and prosthesis, sliding into the bed on his side. She lay very, very still.

There was a pause, and then the bed shook a little and she realised he was laughing quietly.

“Just relax,” he said gently. “This is weird, I know, but let’s just sleep. Tomorrow we can pretend it never happened.”

She giggled. “Great plan,” she said, relaxing a little. Suddenly the situation didn’t seem so terrible after all. Her tiredness and the wine soon dragged her into sleep.

Strike heard her breathing even out and finally relaxed himself. Army training and the ability to sleep anywhere took over, and soon he was asleep too.

...

Robin woke a couple of hours later. She never slept well away from home. A tangle of weird images from an already elusive dream wandered through her thoughts. For a few moments she couldn’t remember where she was. Dim light from the streetlights outside slanted through a gap in the curtains and she frowned at it, confused. Then she remembered, but it still seemed unreal.

The temperature had dropped sharply and the room was cold, but she could feel warmth emanating from behind her, hear the soft rumble of snoring.

She rolled over to look at Strike sleeping next to her, stretched out on his back. Her half-asleep brain couldn’t work out if this was even real. Was she really in bed with him? The air had a dream-like quality. She wondered if she was still a little tipsy.

She shivered in the cold. Without really thinking about it, she shifted herself nearer to Strike’s warmth, and her movement disturbed him a little so that he rolled onto his side, facing her. He was much closer than she’d intended now, still asleep, but he had stopped snoring. His breathing was deep and even. He was so huge and warm and comforting to have there, and she suddenly longed to burrow into his warmth and cuddle up against his bulk. She missed having someone to hug, arms to be wrapped in. Her heart surged with fondness for him.

She gazed at him in the dim light. His battered and surly features relaxed in sleep, he looked much less forbidding than he normally did. His eyelashes were long and dark, she hadn’t noticed before. And his lips were soft, slightly parted in sleep. He looked gorgeous. Her eyes were drawn irresistibly to his mouth.

Slowly, feeling as though she was still half dreaming, she moved closer to his sleeping form. She gently shifted herself so that she was lying next to him, facing him, her head on the pillow next to his. She slid her head closer to his and kissed his cheek gently, feeling his warm, bed-soft skin under her lips. He smelled warm and a little smoky. What am I doing? she thought. But she couldn’t seem to stop. Her lips slowly moved to his mouth. She kissed his top lip and then the bottom one. Her lips parted slightly to match his and she pressed closer.

She felt him wake slowly beneath her touches. His lips moved against hers, mirroring her actions, and then she heard his breath catch as realisation hit. He froze, but she carried on gently kissing his soft mouth.

“Robin, what are you doing?” he whispered in the quiet room.

“Kissing you,” she murmured, still running her lips across his, pressing little kisses to his mouth. Now he was kissing her back, unable to stop himself, his normal firm boundaries weakened by sleep. His hand slid up to rest on her hip on top of the covers.

“Why?” he asked softly.

“I don’t know. I just really, really wanted to,” she said, her eyes drifting open a little to meet his in the dim light. “Is that okay?”

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea,” he managed, in between her feather-light kisses. She was hardly touching him, but desire was rising swiftly within him. She was so soft and gentle and real, and she smelled amazing.

“Tomorrow we can pretend it never happened, remember?” she said softly, and then her mouth opened a little and her tongue brushed over his top lip, lingering on his scar, and he was lost. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close, kissing her hard, and she responded to him eagerly, her mouth opening fully for him, her tongue meeting his. Her hands, trapped between them, spread out across his chest, the tips of her fingers finding the spring of hair above the neck of his T-shirt, stroking gently.

They kissed and kissed, and then abruptly Strike broke off, pulling back from her mouth and hands, rolling away to sit up on the edge of the bed with his back to her. “I can’t do this, Robin,” he said quietly.

She sat up, gathering the covers around herself, looking at his back. She reached out gently and put her hand on his arm. “What can’t you do?” she asked softly. “Cormoran, I’m sorry. I thought...” she tailed off, confused. She’d been so sure this was mutual. “Cormoran, talk to me,” she said gently.

He half turned back towards her, and she drew a sharp breath at the pain in his eyes. “I can’t do... whatever this is, and then pretend tomorrow that nothing happened,” he said. “I’m too... You mean more to me than that, Robin. I can’t just have some kind of fling with you. I want everything.”

She smiled at him softly in the dim light. “Me too,” she said. “That was just a silly joke after what you said before. Whatever this is, it’s more than just tonight to me. I’m sorry for being flippant.”

He hesitated, his eyes searching hers. Her hand curled around his arm, warm and sure. “Come back and lie down with me,” she said gently. “It’s going to be fine.”


End file.
